


Absolution

by DhampirsDrinkEspresso



Series: Redemption [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Childbirth, Children, Everyone is fine, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Group Marriage, Illness of Parent, Illnesses, M/M, Multi, Newborn Children, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Prematurity, That's Not How The Force Works, childbirth complications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DhampirsDrinkEspresso/pseuds/DhampirsDrinkEspresso
Summary: Things begin to settle, and the family is mostly content.
Relationships: Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Finn/Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn/Ben Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Redemption [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696054
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Absolution

**ab·so·lu·tion**

**noun: absolution; plural noun: absolutions**

**formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.**

It’s not a conscious decision, really. They don’t discuss it, but eventually they mostly don’t worry so much about being _careful,_ about precautions (Ben does; but only him). Things have settled, for a while, as peaceful as the galaxy is likely to get. Ben doesn’t get as many glares. The whispers have diminished. It’s been months since anyone spat at his feet.

They’re the Damerons now, all four of them, officially even, and, well, why not let the family grow?

The first is Finn’s, technically speaking. They know that night, before their skin has cooled, before they have even caught their breath. Rey gasps, sitting up, hands flailing before coming to rest low on her belly. Ben can feel it too, a subtle shift. Finn looks at them both in awe, and it is unclear whether he can sense it himself or is catching it from them. Poe looks between them all, confused at first, before it dawns on him.

They don’t speak of it—won’t—not for weeks, yet, but they _know_ and for now that is enough.

Leia knows within days, despite Rey’s rather adept maneuvering to avoid her. She doesn’t say anything, though, just smiles, nods, pats Rey’s cheek as she invites them for dinner, all four of them, as has become her custom.

The weeks and months pass in a blur of joy and fear and hope and doubt and wonder and suddenly it’s _time_. He takes Rey’s pain, as best he can, parcels it out between them and stays close, stays within touching range as she curses and growls and threatens them all. It is the way of things.

She is tiny, their daughter, perfect, wrapped in a blanket with barely even her face revealed. After Rey, Finn is the first to hold her, and Poe hovers close and holds Finn while Rey watches, her smile tired and soft.

He must make some movement or small sound, because Finn glances up, his smile near painful in its brightness, and then Finn is crossing the room, transferring the tiny bundle into Ben’s arms and he stares down, transfixed.

She yawns and his eyes blur.

_Perfect._

Her skin is lighter than Finn’s, darker than Rey’s, her features a perfect blend of them. He barely realizes Poe and Finn are on either side of him, staring down at her sleeping face. Finn leans in the rest of the way, head coming to settle on Ben’s arm as a hand strokes down Ben’s back.

“Say it,” Finn murmurs softly, “Name her.”

They haven’t discussed it, but there is no doubt, no hesitation. “Hope.”

His mother is in a medical bed of her own.

_Only a matter of time._

She insists something had to go.

“No moping. I’m and old woman. Now come over here and introduce me to my granddaughter.”

“She’s not—”

“She _is.”_

She sits up higher in her bed, arms out. He hears the door click open as his mother smiles and coos and gently rocks as she hums.

He recognizes the tune, dimly, knows she sang it to him once upon a time. He had forgotten, and it saddens him. So many years wasted on bitterness and anger and hate.

“Don’t,” she says softly. Or maybe Finn says it, as he walks over and links an arm through Ben’s. Maybe it’s Poe, coming up on Ben’s other side and draping am arm across his back.

Maybe it’s all three of them.

The sorrow won’t leave, not ever, but there is no room for it here and now, so he locks it away as his mother finds the words, teaches them the lullaby.

The second—and third—are Poe’s. Twins, one boy and one girl. Finn is strong enough now to take some of the pain, and it’s good because there are complications, and it takes longer, the fear bleeding through them all as Poe paces, Ben and Finn on either side of Rey, all three of them drenched in sweat and trembling.

Poe threatens to name them Dusk and Dawn and Rey finds the energy from somewhere to growl at him.

How they settle on Easton and Ella none of them seem to know, but they agree, and the names just seem to fit.

Hope is fascinated by her brother and sister, though less enthused over time as the twins cry and demand attention—and changes. But she is fierce and proud and their first line of defense.

Despite medical prediction, or perhaps in defiance, his mother thrives and dotes on them all, children and grandchildren alike. Now, finally, she has stepped back, let those younger with more energy lead the charge.

He knows she wishes she had done so sooner.

Sometimes he allows himself to wish as well, but that is a dangerous path.

Ben is…content in his life. It’s more than he could ever have imagined, more than he could ever deserve. Somehow, he has his mother back, and love—the kind that resonates through the ages—with not just one but three people. Their children are brilliant and beautiful.

The voices that haunted him are long gone.

He should have expected it, he supposes, when they broach the subject.

_No._

He won’t.

The risk is too great, the burden to heavy for a child to bear alone. He should know.

“Not alone Ben, they wouldn’t be alone.” Finn is earnest, Poe insistent, Rey assured and calm.

“They’d have all of us, and your mother, their sisters and brother.” Poe’s hand is heavy on his shoulder. “It’s still your decision, your choice, and if it’s no forever, so be it. That doesn’t change that we’re a family. Forever.”

Poe doesn’t say anything else, but the image is there, hovering on the edge of Ben’s consciousness, Poe’s dream of the child that _could_ be.

Rey’s freckles. Ben’s hair color but with the wild wave and curl Rey’s gets sometimes. Ben’s smile and eyes in Rey’s face, and pudgy legs that toddle along after their sisters and brother.

But he _can’t_.

It feels _wrong_ , the idea of knowingly passing on the burdens of the legacies of his old family names. Of saddling a child with a power they could never truly be strong enough to wield.

After all, it’s what happened to him.

“Who better to guard and teach them?”

He jumps at the question. He hadn’t heard his mother come in.

“Who Ben? Who knows better than you? Who could possibly be a better protector?”

Unbidden, Rey’s face flits across his mind, and his mother bites back a smile.

“Not what I was getting at, but you’re not wrong,” she says, reaching up to press a hand on the side of his face. “You won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

He knows she doesn’t need to read his mind. His doubt is plain on his face.

She gives him half a smile. “You haven’t yet, Ben. With Hope and Easton and Ella. You haven’t made the mistakes I did.” She waits, lets that sink in. It’s true enough. She smiles again, a full one this time and her eyes shine as she adds, “You’ll make your own mistakes, plenty of those, believe me.” Even he laughs, and it’s good. It’s what she intended. She pats his cheek. “Ben don’t let fear be the thing that stops you. If it’s not right, or just not what you want, fine. But not because you’re afraid of something that might not even happen.”

She has a point.

Force sensitivity might be more likely, but it’s not guaranteed.

She smiles one more time. “Besides, they wouldn’t be a Skywalker or Solo child. You’re a Dameron now. It’s not a bad thing to be.”

No. Not bad at all.

Maybe, just maybe, he can dare to let himself want.

She is a little early, but only a very little, and perfect.

Tiny and angry and _loud_. Her cries echo the room as her dissatisfaction resonates in his head.

There is no room for fear. Not now.

When she is in his arms, impossibly tiny, he is at peace.

The tears are happy, something he hadn’t ever known possible until Finn and Rey and Poe. His face hurts, unused to the smile even though it happens more often now, as he looks up at them. “What should we name her?”

Finn and Rey share a look, glance at Poe, and he beams.

“Abigail,” he says, steady and sure. They’ve talked about this, Ben realizes, the three of them, and managed to keep him from knowing. Poe crosses the room, looks down at her sleeping face. Poe wraps an arm around him, head on his shoulder (or as near to it as he can get). “It means father’s joy.”

_Joy._

Yes.


End file.
